... To An Alien Threat

Gilda panted as she navigated the ridges and rocky landscape of the Southern Approach, the autumn air becoming crisper and cooler as they ascended through the pines and the golden trees. As they rose higher and higher, the group drew tired breaths and pushed forward. When she could walk no longer and her lungs burned, Red, as she had taken to calling him, would holster his weapon and carry her in his arms. When he grew tired, she would take back to the ground. Her wings were sore in anticipation, though she feared flying off and away from her new companions.

She felt an odd sense of responsibility for these strange creatures, and though they had a rocky start, Red saved her and offered her a weapon. Would they do that for any creature? Was it a matter of respect, or simple protection? The more of them equipped, the better equipped they'd be to handle those... things.

Whatever the reason, Gilda could not leave them behind. Not like Rainbow.

As they crested the ridge, the light of the setting sun underneath the blanket of wild clouds cast beautiful orange rays over the horizon, illuminating their path forward. Gilda took sore but excited steps up the rocks and gravel, ascending to the top of the large boulder dug into the dirt. The faint glimmer of the ocean to the East cast star-like beams across the water and towards them, a sight she had grown fond of since she took a position at Gildenclaw.

More than the eye-candy, it also meant they were close. She was incensed, a hopeful swell in her breast.

"Just ahead, a little further now!" she called back, knowing full well that despite the language barrier, they would understand her enthusiasm. She felt Red staring at her as she marched ahead, his faint grumblings reaching her ears.

She bounded up the path, knowing that just around the corner and obscured by the pines, Gildenclaw would be staring East out over the entirety of Sugar Maple Grove. Sure enough, with each step, the silhouette of the old stone keep presented itself, the wrought-iron gate lowered and guards stationed atop the walls. She moved forward with an excited urgency, pressing forward, though her muscles ached and her body was tired.

As she approached with her companions, a green griffon wearing a traditional guard-cap tapped his spear against the bell on the corner of the gatehouse. He shouted in a loud voice.

"Identify yourself!"

Gilda stood straighter and puffed out her chest.

"Corporal Gilda Grizelda, Flight Three, Scout!" she called back.

The green griffons eyes widened. He looked within the gate house and said something she couldn't hear. Another griffon, with red markings upon his feathers, looked out over her band. He said something to the green griffon, who then promptly descended further within the keep.

"Stay right there!" the marked griffon called.

"We have wounded, let us in!" Gilda cried back, gesturing to the filly in Thin's lanky arms.

He was not swayed. He narrowed his eyes, talons curling tight.

"I said stay where you are!"

She noticed Red idly thumbing at his weapon on his chest. She feared he would use it.

"Just let us in, you chicken!" she shouted desperately.

The green griffon returned and exchanged a quick word with the marked one.

"Where's the rest of Flight Three?" he asked.

Gilda scrunched up her eyes and pounded the dirt with a balled fist.

"They're rutting dead you rutting dork! This filly's hurt and we're all tired! Open the gate!"

The two griffons looked to each other in some quiet debate.

"Well, what are you waiting for?!" she screamed. Her wings furled out in agitation, prepared to fly over the wall.

"Open that gate!" a voice called from within.

They filtered in quickly, fatigue vanishing as the way was cleared, a muddy clearing before them and troops marching to and fro within, halting into alert and defensive formations to await the new arrivals. Gilda huffed quietly, her hindpaws suddenly feeling the stress of their trek.

"At attention."

Her eyes widened as one of them, a brown-feathered griffon stepped forward, one paw behind her back and an unmotivated salute with his talons on her wingtips.

"Corporal Grizelda!" she shouted quickly, her fatigue lost in the quick salute. Her eyes panned over to Red and Thin, both looking on at the newly arrived troops filtering in around them. Their weapons weren't raised... yet.

"I am Captain Caw, at ease," the griffoness stated, idly inspecting the taller beings. Her voice carried no sense of urgency nor danger, rolling smoothly over the group with an authoritative and silky tone. Gilda suddenly felt rather anxious. "What kind of creatures are these?"

"I don't know, but they saved my tail in Sugar Maple. Something went wrong, the Sergeant... well, the Sergeant attacked us, wasn't lucid. Like an animal... feral. He got Lightfeather, k-killed him..." Gilda stuttered to a halt, remembering the events of that night.

"And where is the Sergeant now?" she asked, a stern impatience creeping into her voice.

Gilda swallowed, then sighed softly, "He's dead."

The captain stalled a moment. A wind picked up from nowhere, chilled air seeping over the camp. Gilda hadn't noticed any clouds on the way up. Her eyes jumped up to the sky, finding the blue above was being overtaken by blankets of gray. A shrill whistle blew out from the walls as the winds escalated.

Was this a planned storm?

"Lightfeather?"

Gilda's eyes scrunched shut.

"Private Lightfeather, he's... he was my fledge."

"Ah..."

The captain sighed, the corners of her beak drooping slightly, eyes narrowed and scanning the creatures more intently.

"Are these beasts dangerous?"

"Yes, but they're trustworthy... I think," Gilda admitted slowly, her heart fluttering as she stared at the brown-feathered griffoness.

"You think?"

"Well... they saved my life, I..."

Gilda's voice trailed off into uncertainty, her head twisting about as she surveyed the ranks of the soldiers. When the captain's eyes landed upon her, her own shot straight forward. She quickly added, "the two in white are eggheads or doctors, dweebs for sure, but that one right there is a warrior, saved my life," just as the Captain scrutinized Red intently. He returned the favor with a casual lookover, weariness in his face.

"Can they speak?"

Gilda hesitated at first, but then nodded quickly and answered, "Yeah, yeah they can. It sounds similar to Equestrian... I don't know what specifically."

The captain's eyes softened looking at the filly. Her unconscious form shivered in the cold.

"They look tired. That one needs medical attention. Suture!"

A rather malnourished griffon with dull gray feathers and blue eyes swooped in from the corner of Gilda's vision, promptly making off with the filly and bee-lining towards a small brick building stashed away in the corner of the courtyard. His instruments and tools jingled in his coat as he bounced on his hindlegs, the filly tucked in the crook of his taloned forelegs. Gilda had little time to react as the captain jumped right back into questioning.

"Where did they come from?"

"We ended up catching them in the Maple Grove. After that, well, the dorks there chittered and chattered all night while we were on watch. Red over there just watched me silently the whole night, then... well, the Sergeant came back."

"Did you see what happened to him?" The captain looked between Red and Gilda's eyes again.

"No, we heard a terrible noise, and I only got glimpses of him. Seconds, and..." she swallowed as her eyes roved over to Red. Her gaze fell down upon his weapon within it's holster, then his knife, staying upon it as she stumbled through her memories. She tried to speak again, but only the passage of air past her vocal chords escaped her mouth. She gave a brief and strangled noise and recoiled as the captain turned towards her.

The captain frowned.

"Hm. Do you know what they eat?" she asked suddenly, glancing back at Thin, who seemed to have a look of worry on her face.

"I... fed that one some fish. Think they might be carnivores."

She nodded at that answer. Gilda surmised they had the rations for that. When did it get so Tartarus-damned cold?

"That makes things easier. Sergeant Yellowtip!"

A nearby griffoness on the other side of the courtyard snapped to attention and saluted her superior officer. Gilda felt her shoulders slump as the attention was pulled off of her, something the captain didn't seem to notice.

"Bring some of the rations over here and have the recruits set up cots for the... what are they called?" she turned to Gilda.

"I don't know, Captain."

"The weird minotaurs," she said with a raised forepaw, "get them seated and situated."

"Yes Captain, right away," replied the soldier as she rushed off towards a pile of supplies, griffons scrambling about behind her. The captain then looked over to another griffon, this one with a light red coloring in his feathers, a griffon with an empty eye-socket, a dark-brown patch sitting over it. The captain spoke to Gilda without looking to her.

"What of the filly you brought?"

Gilda tensed. No ease to be felt in the CO's company.

"Her name is Tulip, same thing happened to Cobblerock," she replied.

"Meaning...?"

"She said she saw something terrible, looked like those creatures, but it was worse. Like a monster, Captain. Same monster Sergeant Craventooth became," Gilda said, her voice quieting towards the end.

"Unsettling news. We have to get word back to Griffonstone. I'll send a flyer as soon as this storm clears up."

Gilda nodded silently, the lump in her throat retreating. The captain walked away from them with another griffon trailing behind her, their steps taking them into the barracks. The red-feathered griffon with the eyepatch turned to Gilda and gave a nod before gesturing with his head towards the tall bipeds. Red exchanged uneasy glances with his compatriots, much like those a dice-player would shoot around when they lost their bet. Eyepatch waited, a small battle of wits to be had with the taller being standing before him. Red scowled and chirped something to the others, all of them following the soldier away. The world grew darker as the last bits of sunlight withered away under the strange and sudden storm that fell upon them, small snowflakes beginning to fall from above. Gilda heaved out a sigh, rubbing at her eyes with the crook of her foreleg. She took a talon to the clasps on her jerkin, prepared to shirk her armor when a strange noise carried on the wind.

A wail. It didn't sound right. The storm picked up.

The horrible noise seemed to echo in her bones, and before long, she noticed the scattered griffons about noticing it too. Red, from his position further in the camp being ushered along by troops, turned to her. Eyepatch followed his gaze.

"Wh-... what was that noise?" he asked.

It stopped, only the rushing wind over the stones of the walls to be heard for a few moments.

Then it came again, and in it, a horrible familiarity settled over Gilda. Captain Caw was immediately on the grounds again, her head tilted and listening to the sound with a worried look. The words left Gilda's mouth before her brain processed them.

"Tartarus... that's what we heard..."

"Calm yourself, Corporal, I'm sure-" Caw stopped as a shout rang out from the perimeter wall overlooking the cliff.

"Guards! What do you see?"

Another griffon on the wall jumped back with a cry of alarm. Something flew through the air over the wall, shooting into the haze of the shrieking blizzard from nowhere, up into the clouds. Spears raised and swords unsheathed, all eyes were to the sky and no one uttered a word. Then it crashed down into the muddy center of the outpost.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes as raw terror swelled in her chest. A horror unimaginable slouched before her, misshapen limbs and exposed flesh twisting and flexing in the cold weather. Steam rose from the withers of the former pony as fresh, hot blood seeped down its barrel, patches of purple fur falling out and onto the cold mud below as it took in ragged and labored breaths. Its head rose with a dead slowness, green eyes hazy and unfocused. It stood there a moment, and no one dared move, terrified and shocked at the terrible thing's appearance. The organs it had used to throw itself into the courtyard retreated into its belly. It finally settled its eyes upon the Sergeant and the haziness vanished. A deep, unsettling shudder rose from what was left of its throat.

Almost like... a laugh. A terrible laugh. When the screaming began, events were already in motion.

The griffons nearest to it were undone in fierce and brutal strikes as razor-sharp barbs sliced through the chilled air. Flesh and bone exploded outwards and onto the muddy soil, Sergeant Yellowtip shrieking as tendrils of toothed-flesh pierced into her armor below her chest-piece. She sank to the ground as the tendril pulled back and out, a whip-like crack resounding through the sounds of combat as it swept around the space, knocking down another griffon. Hot blood arced into the air as he fell into the soil, eyes wide and staring at the sky, his throat cut open. The monster that had felled Yellowtip staggering as it was peppered with crossbow bolts.

"To arms! To arms!" Caw screeched.

A griffoness with a red streak in her hair landed the final shot with her crossbow, striking the beast from the wall. The bolt sat within the flesh of its shoulder, but then it sank inside, pulled in by unknown means. She blanched, seeing it turn its lifeless head to her, its muzzle opening and hair-like red strings hanging out into the air. It leapt up towards her, bloody limbs splaying out and bones cracking as it took flight. She took to the air to escape, but it was too late; it collided with her in mid-air and took them both soaring beyond the wall. Her screams faded as they descended down the mountain. The winds barreled down upon them, the icy chill striking them all down to the bone.

"Somegriff help the Sergeant!"

Red cursed in his alien language and Caw started barking orders at the stunned griffons, and before long, everygriff had their gladius or pila at the ready. Though terror held the hearts of many, they steeled themselves against it, the horrible wailing sending shivers down their spines. Some of the guards in the courtyard took to the walls, armor pieces clanging and panging as they marched up the stairs. Red shouted to Thin and Fat, sending them running into the infirmary, urgency upon their faces. Captain Caw took Gilda by the shoulder and shook her from her dread.

"Are you still breathing Corporal?!" she growled.

"Yes Captain," Gilda replied shakily.

Over the Captain's padded shoulder, she saw movement. A guard approached the two fallen griffons in the center of the yard, exchanging quick words between them as they inspected the bodies. Yellowtip's head moved to the side as her limbs twitched, claws digging into the mud and hindpaws searching for purchase on the terrain. Gilda recognized the jitteriness in her movement, flashes of fire and skull fragments bursting into her memory. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forward. A manic eye burned fiery red hatred up at the two, malice and malevolence searing into Gilda's mind from behind those yellow bangs.

"Get back!" she finally screamed.

A loud crack rang out through the courtyard, rolling over the mountains, cutting through the lashing winds of the blizzard. The wailing stopped, the griffons closest to the noise jumping in shock, and the two griffons in the center parting. Red had his weapon pointed at Yellowtip, her skull deformed by the impossibly fast projectile. Her ears felt a familiar ringing as steam rose from what was left of her beak, blood pooling out onto the mud. Red shouted in his strange language again, the guards and the Captain watching with alert eyes.

Before the guards could respond, they heard another noise. Yellowtip gurgled as she reached for the griffon nearest, eyes wobbly and tongue freely dangling as she crawled closer. He yelped and reared back, the mud sliding beneath his hindpaws, sending him backwards to the ground. She inched closer, head shaking side-to-side as she released a chilling screech.

Red fired again, her head completely coming undone, her body going limp. Bits of skull and brain matter cascaded through the air down her back, the contents within her head pooling out onto the ground.

"U-up! UP CLICKY!" the standing guard said as he frantically pulled his friend away from the body.

"What is this?" Captain Caw asked fearfully.

The wailing resumed, and the sound of scratching on stone climbed up the walls. Two of the guards on the South wall began shouting, eyes wide and beaks moving frantically.

"They're climbing the walls!"

The guards on the North wall called back, "here too!"

"Do not let them in!"

The sound of struggle and battle picked up from the walls as the guards struck at unseen assailants. Gilda finally shook herself free and looked to Red, noticing that he had suddenly disappeared. At the walls, the griffons panicked, throwing desperate swings and stabs at whatever was scaling the walls. Gilda shakily produced her own gladius, the blade dancing in the air with her nerves. They were coming fast.

"Shields!"

Under the torchlight, she could see some of the griffons pulled over the wall, while some fell back in hurried motions. The remaining defenders at the wall shouted and screeched as they pushed and shoved wildly to get through the crowd. A griffoness took another and they both went over the wall, bellowing as they fell. Two took to the air and disappeared into the blizzard, their weapons clattering to the ground behind them. The last of the bastion was forming a testudo with the Captain in the center. Without their previous number, it was small and disorganized.

Something fell from the sky into the frozen mud before her, another manic eye glinting behind strands of flesh draped over its muzzle like a veil. Gilda knew better than to hesitate, her gladius cutting through the air and slashing open the throat. Blood sprayed through the air and she flinched as the hot liquid splashed against her. The sounds of combat around her faded under her stressed breathing, the opponent before her trying to stand on unsteady hooves as the neck-wound glistened orange and sewed itself together. Gilda swung vertically, burying the end of her blade into the groove between the muzzle and the top of the head, bone crunching as metal buried itself within brain. It went limp and fell before her, her eyes staring, waiting for it to move again.

When it did not, her eyes drifted to the collection of griffons in the center of the courtyard. She stumbled forward towards them when Red's hand gripped her by the shoulder.

"At the gate, at the-"

A loud boom, and Gilda was thrown away towards the door, the ground shaking and the wailing growing louder. She turned back to see that the main gate had been reduced to splinters and metal debris scattered about the yard. Standing in the archway was an amorphous, towering figure, and a creature of similar stature to Thin stood beside it. She could hardly see through the blizzard but with deep, rumbling steps, the massive thing drew closer into the courtyard. It was as big as an Ursa Major, if not bigger! Red stared at it before he ran towards Gilda and pulled her away.

Captain Caw turned to face the intruder, her cape swirling over her shoulder as she pulled out her sword.

Gilda was pulled into infirmary and Red shut the door behind them. She could barely hear the wailing within the building. A short relief. As she tried to pick herself up from the floor, Gilda realized that Red was barricading the door. He had no intention of helping them out there. He was leaving them to die!

"What... what are you doing?!"

Gilda started a sprint over to him but Thin quickly darted in front of her, shaking her head and putting her hands out before her. Gilda tried pushing past her, but the lanky creature was joined by Fat in holding her back. Her gladius fell to the ground as they wrestled. Red stacked boxes and bedframes against the door hurriedly. The sounds of fighting were slowly replaced by anguished cries and dying shouts.

"No! We can't leave them out there!"

Red shot her a look that threatened all of the bravery in her heart. He knew what this was, and everything in his gaze told her that to be out there meant death. Thin started shushing her and said something to Fat. He nodded and said something back, then said something to Gilda with hot breath.

"They're through! Through the-"

Red backed away from the newly barricaded door, the frantic sound of thumping from the defenders left outside. Gilda tried to push the creatures off of her to no avail. She reached for her gladius, but Fat's fingers were upon her wrist, holding it down to the floor. She weakly struggled against him, muscles burning and lungs afire.

"You can't," Gilda whispered, looking to Thin. The lanky creature gave her a sympathetic look, but she could see there was no budging on this issue; they weren't going to let her go out there.

"THE DOOR! THE DOOR WON'T BUDGE!" a griffon shouted.

Red went over to one of the remaining crates and pulled out foggy bottles with clear liquid, eyes never leaving the door. He uncorked some and stuffed gauze and small gray and black shards within them, leaving the gauze dangling from the lips of the bottles. With the next few bottles, he instead poured their contents upon the barricade, the smell of alcohol quickly filling the room.

The pounding on the door continued, until finally, gurgles and closing whimpers filtered through the wood. The sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking, muffled as it was, instilled a gruesome silence into the room. Red turned to her, his beady eyes alight with fear and anger, and he pressed a finger against his lips. Be quiet. Then, he approached her, and she flinched when he crouched down. He took the last bottle and a rag, dousing it in the alcohol, putting his weapon to her head and rubbing the rag against the feathers of her chest. She recoiled at the touch, but Thin and Fat held her in place. When he pulled the rag back, it was stained red.

Had she been wounded?

She didn't feel any different, but the adrenaline coursing through her system numbed her sensations. Slowly, the cold of the mountain returned to her, even in this room warmed by fire. Red said something to her, whispering, gesturing to the rag. She stared at it dumbly for a few moments. He must have been asking if it was her blood. She shook her head instinctively, then doubly-so when she recalled the beast that had attacked her. He threw the rag onto the barricade.

She remembered her Sergeant, Lightfeather and the two griffons struck down in the courtyard. Lightfeather died instantly, but Yellowtip didn't die... she became one of them. That was why he threatened Tulip. That was why they hid here instead of fighting.

A curse, a disease, whatever it was... to be wounded by the monsters was to become one.

In the silence, a rhythmic thumping filled the room, all eyes landing upon the door. A babbling, muffled gurgle pushed past the tightly packed boards of the door, but it was met with no response. They all remained silent and watched the barricade. The thumping faded and wet splashes trailed away into the cold.

Author's Note

Been awhile, huh? Half a year I think. Anyways, this story's not dead, I'm just having a bout of writers block that has not yet lifted. It's a pain in the tooshie. Hopefully, when it does, I'll have more to share with you all in faster updates. Also, does anyone else hate their earlier work? I'm afraid to go back and read it.

You know the drill: comments, questions, concerns, corrections and critiques below. Theories are also welcome.